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THE WIZARD KELLOG needn't have a shadow, not with how Mandon was filling the role perfectly. The assistant stayed within a hair's breadth from the Wizard's heels at all times, should enemies strike. 

"While I appreciate your dedication--" drawled the Wizard, his fingers perfecting the triangle of pocket square peeking from his robe pocket, "there's no need for you to stand so close. I am in no immediate danger within my own Acadium." 

Mandon scowled, his grey-peppered eyebrows kissing over his eyes. "Sir, it is my job to protect you."

The Wizard's gaze darted to the clipboard carried in the man's arms as though it were gold-plated and ruby-studded. "Your job is to organize my itinerary and ensure I'm not double booked." 

They turned down a corridor overlooking the Acadium's quad. At first, the crown had refused his proposal for the lot on which now stood the Acadium. They had wanted to gut it of its natural splendor, siphon the water from the lake into the city's aqueducts, and build a large, beauty salon to appease the ladies in his mother's court, the then prince's attempt to curry favor and secure a wife. 

But the Wizard had always been a most persuasive fellow, and he secured the land rights and the Acadium was completed not four years later. He saved what greenery he could - the lake at the building's back, the small hill studded with Burlas at its front. He was delighted to see it a common place for his students to practice, though that often meant it succumbed to fires and floodings, and all the other dangers associated with young people and their first forays into the magick arts.

Mandon was still pursuing the Wizard, his heels clicking loudly as they mounted the steps leading to the Wizard's office, his sanctuary, his one place of peace, where inside he was insolated from the watchful eyes of the nobility eager for the meagerest tidbits of Wizard gossip and the relentless eyes of the pressers, overly-motivated to snag a front page headline with a Wizard Kellog misstep. He'd endeavored to never sate either group. They could starve at his door for all he cared. 

The Wizard sped up, the cornflower blue door of his office in sight. 

"Sir," called Mandon. "You mustn't speed up like that. What if you tripped? Or a light fixture snapped and fell on your head?"

 The man huffed already, so out of practice. The Wizard had been too easy on him, for far too long. He snickered, snatched up the hem of his teaching robes, and started sprinting. 

"Sir?" Panic wove its way through Mandon's voice. "Sir! Please! We must discuss the meeting at five..." 

Behind the Wizard, rushed footsteps fell across the tile floor. He chuckled, hand on his doorknob and wrenched it open. A second of quiet was not much, but it was all he had since Mandon had become his assistant, and he would savor it.

A minute and a half later, a huffing, red-faced mess of a man hurled himself through the Wizard's doorway. Kellog sat at his desk, posture poised and elegant, a quill scratching away on a parchment. 

Mandon, bent over, hands on his thighs, snapped into place, upright, shoulders back and stiff, like they'd been overly starched. He eyed the Wizard's desk dubiously. "You're doing work?" 

"Mm? Yes." Ink dripped from the tip of his quill, as he paused to address Mandon. "Of course. You said it yourself. I have work needing done." He resumed his work, the quill flying across the page. 

Mandon stalked toward his desk and snatched the paper up. He sneered. The parchment, one which was for requisitions from the Crown, for ongoing construction occurring on campus, had been marred by hastily scribbled lines of a man, hunched over, and untidy. His cheeks blown out, and red. The whole of him drenched in sweat. 

The Wizard grinned. "What do you think? It's uncanny, no?" 

Mandon threw the paper back on the ground. "I think that's a waste of a requisitions form, which means I'll have to procure another. Also, if that is supposed to me be," He tugged down his shirt, and squared off the glasses perched on his nose. "It's an appalling rendition." 

Leaning over, the Wizard plucked up the discarded form and held it beside Mandon's face. "I think it's fairly spot on. Why I even captured the way your moustache hairs quiver." Mandon snorted. "It's fascinating how every part of your body reacts to exertion."

With a sigh, the wizard's assistant moved to the couch. He plopped himself down, licking a thumb the Wizard knew he'd use to leaf through his papers and rain down misery upon the Wizard's life. 

To prepare for the endless list of drudgery and tasks that awaited him this day and the next, the Wizard grabbed himself a glass off a small table near his right, and called out to magick. It came as a flood, and had he been less practiced in his art, it would have suffocated him. Early on in his career, it almost had. 

Slowly, the glass started to fill, the sides frosting from the water's chill. When the Wizard wanted ice-water, he got it. 

Mandon frowned, his fingers playing with the edge of a paper. "Must you magick everything? Nira's working the desk and I'm sure she'd be thrilled to get you something to drink."

He waved aside Mandon's suggestion. "There's no point, not when I can do it myself." 

Once the glass was full, he tipped his head back and drank, the water slipping over his tongue and down his throat, soothing the ache he felt from expending so much of himself on a three hour lecture about bindings. The students had cornered him afterward with an onslaught of questions - about weight and potency and if one was related to the other. About the lasting power of spit versus blood and which was ideal with the application of a cosmetic glamor. Gum was the most expensive binder, the so-called best bonder of items and magick extracted from ly'ren stone, was that true? Was it worth the cost, or could imitation solutions such as tack, prove a less-expensive but equally effective alternative?

So many questions to harass him with so early in the morning, but their genuine curiosity and excitement on the subject proved infectious. He hadn't the heart to turn them away until every question had been answered. 

And now he paid for it, his throat hoarse, his tongue thick with irritation. Forcing Mandon to run had made it better, much like the water he'd conjured.

The water finished, he summoned a bit of wind and threw open the window. Triad's citrusy scent wafted through his office, the breeze knocking papers from his desk. They joined mountains of books, empty ink pots, leaking ink pots, bits of a prototype potioneering set he hoped would astound the world, and far outperform the Wizarding Number Four. 

 "Magick is--" A hint of strain was in the assistant's address, as was the case whenever Mandon approached any topic he deemed of serious discourse. The Wizard braced, knowing one of two outcomes would occur - Mandon would chide him for what he thought was the Wizard's frivolous use of magick, and the Wizard's head would erupt with ache. Option two - Mandon would chastise the Wizard for his fickle nature which manifested in his frivolous use of magic, and the Wizard's head would become a migraine's playground for the next several hours. Either option was a guarantee, unable to be stopped, no matter how powerful the Wizard was. "A limited resource. Using it for such unnecessary frivolities, like filling a glass with drinking water--"

As he said so, the Wizard took his glass in hand, and started filling it again. His mouth suddenly felt so dry. 

Mandon's brow wrinkled so much it nearly halved its size. "I see you don't care, but you should. Too much magick can drain a wizard. Even you."

To his credit, Mandon knew a great deal about magick, but it was all the knowledge available to him in the libraries, knowledge that had been written down by scholars, none of whom did magick, they merely studied it, and gave their best approximations about how it worked. 

Those books often referred to magick as a tool, wielded by a mage. But that had never accurately described the Wizard's relation to his magick. There was no give and take, no cost exacted on his body for every spell he cast, every element he commanded. It was hard to explain, but magick and him weren't separate entities. The magick flowed from the world into him, and from him into the world. It was balance, it was harmony, and only when the wizard called upon the magick, did he feel honest. Like he wasn't lying about being the Wizard Kellog, though that was all he knew himself to be. A dashing man, with a smile capable of melting even the most frozen hearts, talented in magick, gifted with a sharp tongue and clever mind. 

And yet, at night, something scratched at the edge of his memory. Something that begged him heed its words. No matter how hard he listened, he never heard; too low were the whispers.

A deep sigh floated to the Wizard's ears. Mandon was staring at him, dour-faced and sour-lipped. Even his moustache looked at the Wizard reproachfully. "Shall we go over the rest of today's itinerary?"

The Wizard shrugged. "I shan't waste a breath giving an answer you'll ignore so--" 

"Good." Mandon scooted to the edge of the couch, eyes dancing along the page. "Commissary says someone's been stealing eggs. A basket every week." 

The Wizard yawned.

"Eggs, as you know, have gone up in price given the trade disagreements between the south and Mirea. As such, this theft is costing the school--" 

Eyelids drooping, the Wizard Kellog let his head lull back. He hoped for a quick nap, where in his dreams he could be untroubled by eggs, and the lack thereof.

A thud had the Wizard shooting forward in his chair, eyes wide. 

Mandon loomed over him, a glower, perfected from years under the Wizard's employ, sitting just beneath a most menacing moustache. "Sir, I get that you are tired after your tour, but this blatant disregard--"

A rush of wind filled the space as his door was wrenched back. The doorframe bulged, a crack forming near one of the hinges. Nira burst in, the door's knob in her hand. She frowned. "Forgive me." 

The woman was strong and stout, both in body and mind, and had been one of the Wizard's most promising potioneering students, so much so, he'd placed her on track to be a teacher at the school, but she had yet to master either. Thus, many, many of his doorknobs crumbled in her hands.

He eyed the corner of the room, where a heap of dented metal knobs, and hinges had begun to rust.

Nira took the hint, and tossed the knob onto the pile. "You have guests."

The Wizard jumped to his feet, running his hands over his robes. "Guests?" He strode past Mandon. "Hear that, Mandy? I have guests."

Mandon pinched the bridge of his nose. "Photo ops are every Wednesday, Nira, from sunrise to noon. Tell them to come ba--" 

"Nonsense." The Wizard practically danced, he was so giddy and grateful for the interruption. No more talk of eggs in his immediate future. He could almost kiss whoever it was for such fortuitous timing. "Mustn't keep the fans waiting. They are the reason why I'm here, and why you collect that paycheck every month." 

Getting behind Mandon, he pushed him forward. "Come, come. All this talk of work can wait until later. Nira," he called. "Close the door, and try not to crush the other doorknob. I'll need at least one in working order if I'm not to be trapped in my office." 

She gave a nod, her expression repentant as she eyed the metallic corpses of her many victims. 

With Mandon having no choice but to oblige the Wizard, he allowed himself to be dragged out, his clipboard abandoned, his talk of eggs silenced. 

The Wizard's situation had been precarious, and he'd come close to giving in and doing work, but visitors had saved him, the battle won, the Wizard victorious. He would live to see another day, wherein he would ignore Mandon's pleas to get work done. 

Such a meeting could only be fated. And he had every intention of treating his saviors to an experience they'd remember for the rest of their lives. 

*

The Acadium was even better up close. They had to pass through a gate, and a quad filled with students, all wearing the mandatory cornflower blue uniform. Fabric studded with stars filled every pocket, and fluttered out of open windows. The large door opened as they approached, the flames burning in the braziers, turning into menacing orange hill cats that released ground-shaking roars. Inside, the walls were entirely ly'ren stone, the bright blue veinings of magick glowing against the smooth, obsidian stones. It gave the appearance of movement, vines of magick climbing up walls and slithering over bannisters. The foyer dripped with gold and stars, the floors white marble.

 A large woman leaned against a desk, her attention turned to a split seam that seemed to have ruptured because of her shapely bicep. She had a needle and thread in hand, trying to mend the gap.

Lucy sauntered in and right up to the desk like he owned the place. Abby would have chalked his behavior up to his being Aelurus's king and feeling perfectly at home in a palace, but she knew even when he was a cat he owned every room he walked into.

"Excuse me?" He tapped his nails on the desk, alerting the woman behind it to his presence. 

She seemed surprised with Lucy draped over her desk, so close to her face. The thread she'd been mending her shirt with snapped, the hole widening. She tossed aside her needle and threw her blond fishtail braid over a shoulder. "Welcome to the Wizard Acadium's—"

"Yes, yes," said Lucy, flashing his most handsome grin. A vein in the woman's thick neck throbbed. Lucy tilted his head, eyes honed in on her name tag. "I know all about where I stand, Nira. The epicenter of magick and all that, but my friends and I are in a bit of a rush. I was hoping we could bypass the little spiel and you could allow us an audience with the Wizard. We have a standing invitation from the man himself." 

She grimaced, her lips pursing. "The Wizard Kellog is not to be disturbed outside of regular visiting hours. If you wish to–"

Lucy leaned closer, coyly curling a lock of hair around his finger. "Please, Nira." The woman gulped. Her eyes darted between the corridors as though contemplating which way would provide her with the quickest exit. Abby couldn't blame her. "Be a dear and–"

Sebbi grumbled something about how embarrassed Lucy should be before taking a step forward and clearing his throat. Lucy glanced at him which Sebbi returned with a glare. "Forgive him," he said, pushing Lucy aside. "For whatever it was he was doing." Lucy's face fell as he sulked back over to the rest of the group. "He was right about the Wizard Kellog though. He's invited me here. I'm Sebbi."

She picked up a notepad by her hand, and starting sifting through the pages, her grimace worsening. "I don't see your name on the appointment list."

"No, I imagine you wouldn't. It was a casual invite. I rode with him aboard the Celes."

At this, Nira's thin blond eyebrows peaked over her deep cerulean eyes. "You rode the Celes?"

"Yes." He smiled.

"It's a wonder that ship didn't sink, with how tattered it looks."

 "Parts of itself were plunging into the ocean all the time."

"Alright,"  said Nira finally. "I'll check with the Wizard. One moment." She turned to leave, but whipped back around. "Please don't touch anything."

Margo, who had been judging a bust of The Wizard Kellog for its too round jawline, and delicate and not at all strong nose, set it back down on its pedestal and took a step back.

Having been satisfied hands would be kept to themselves, Nira marched up the steps, disappearing into the Acadium's upper floors. 

With nothing to do, they explored. Margo dragged Lucy by the arm, to all the statues, all of them depicting the Wizard at various stages in his career. Abby milled about, too scared of breaking anything to move.

"Nervous?" asked Sebbi, his breath tickling Abby's ear. She flinched, strands of his hair brushing against her temple.

"Of course." Her voice was clipped, her hand running over her shirt and trousers. "He's the wizard."

"He's rather normal, aside from all the magick stuff." 

She squeezed her book to her chest, worried she'd chosen the wrong one for an autograph. What if the Wizard refused to sign it? What if it cost more than the half-stars she'd brought with her? What if she reached out to shake his hand and her arm suddenly fell off? What if she face-planted and cracked the stone? That was at least several thousand stars worth of damage. She'd be indebted for the rest of her life. 

"It's like I'm reading your thoughts as you think them." Sebbi snickered. 

She swatted his chest. "I feel like I'm going to mess this up somehow."

"You won't. It'll go fine, just," said Sebbi, sliding a foot across the ground. "Don't call him old. He's sensitive about that."

She gave a nod. "Got it." She hadn't planned to meet the greatest wizard ever and call him old in the first place, but Abby was desperate not to mess up. Any advice was welcomed. 

"Sebbi! Well met!" boomed a voice from down the hall. The Wizard Kellog sped toward them, an out-of-breath man struggling to keep pace. He wore his academic robes - a deep navy, with pearlescent stars around the hem, collar and sleeves. His smile was every bit as warming as the portraits portrayed it to be, his skin a beautiful dark brown that glowed as he passed under a row of archways. "You remember my assistant, Mandon?" He nodded at the man, on the verge of collapsing at his back.

Abby's shoulders stiffened, her eyes darting to the ground.

Breathe. Just breathe. He's a man, who just happens to do magick.

She heard Margo squeak. 

"Wizard," said Sebbi. 

Abby blinked. Wizard? No honorific?

They'd been on friendlier terms than she thought. Perhaps all the time aboard the ship had made their relationship breeze right past acquaintances and dock at friendship pier. 

"This is Lucy, my brother."

"Ah, Lucy, it's nice to meet you." The Wizard's voice brimmed with wisdom, and a hint of something playful, spirited.

"Same," said Lucy, though his voice was lackluster, almost bored.

She would smack him later for not being appropriately excited. This was The Wizard he was meeting after all.

"And this–" The sound of shuffling steps found Abby's ears, though it was hard to hear anything over the pounding of her heart. Her fingers suddenly felt sticky, and she ran them down her shirt to wick off excess sweat. "--is Margo."

"It's a pleasure," Margo's voice pitched so high it almost veered into another register. "An honor really. You're like the person equivalent of cheese."

A chuckle broke over them.

"If you knew how much Miss Puffs here likes her cheese, you'd understand what a huge compliment that is," added Lucy for context.

"Ah yes, thank you, Miss Margo. It's an honor meeting such a well-read fan. Those are first editions in your bag, yes?"

A higher pitched squeak left Margo's mouth.

"And in such pristine condition too. I'd hate to mess them up with my sloppy scrawl but if you desire an autograph or two, it would be my pleasure."

"Yes, thank you. Thank you!"

"And who is this, hiding in the corner of my Acadium?"

Abby could feel the rustle of fabric, see the stars, his stars, come into view. Sebbi's fingers grazed her own. She raised her head, and was met with the most piercing set of blue eyes she'd ever seen. They were so familiar and yet so foreign and they glittered, just like in the pictures.

"This is Abby."

The Wizard Kellog's smile spread far and wide. Abby flushed profusely under its sheer warmth.

His head tilted, and for a moment, a wrinkle settled over his forehead. "Forgive me, but have we met?" 

Abby shook her head. "No, never. Not until now. I'd remember if we had." 

"Ah, of course." His face smoothed over, and he outstretched his hand. "It is good to meet the young woman who inspired Sebbi's journey." His words soaked Sebbi in embarrassment, his cheeks going up in flames. "You're the reason he never gave up." 

"Th-thank you." Tamping down her nerves, all of which were writhing in her stomach, she reached out and took his hand. "I'm honored to meet yo--"

His eyes turned glassy, and he yanked his arm free. The Wizard stumbled back into a pedestal, causing the bust of Margo's ire to smash against the floor. 

He gasped, his hands flying to his neck. He fell onto the shards, muscles twisting. 

"Sir?!" Mandon rushed to The Wizard's side, worry etched in every line of his face. "Sir, hold on!" 

Abby took a step back as Mandon called for help, The Wizard's body continuing to shudder.